


Physician Damira. Hawk in songbirds nest

by zalzala



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Chronic Illness, Cyberpunk, Doctor/Patient, Doctors & Physicians, Drama, Family Drama, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gen, Gun Violence, Hospitals, Illnesses, Islam, Muslim Character, Psionics, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religion, Religious Content, Religious Cults, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Superpowers, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27326191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zalzala/pseuds/zalzala
Summary: Damira Dreiser - a Muslim doctor with a difficult character and a failed personal life enters a new job. One day, she finds out that she is not her own daughter. And in her life begins a wild whirlwind in the form of secret service agents, job changes, attempted murder, kidnapping by terrorists. Will she be able to cope with the challenges that have befallen her?





	Physician Damira. Hawk in songbirds nest

In the chief physician's office, a girl, still young, but clearly not of college age, sat on a chair. She held herself erect, her features hard as if they had been carved out of marble. Her eyes are dark gray, cold as metal. It was obvious that she was very difficult personality and the appropriate name was Dr. Dreiser... No, physician Damira! 

— Assalamu alaykum. 

— Wa alaikum assalam. 

— You have good credentials. Why did you decide to work for us? 

— There is a large clinic here, through which many patients pass, and here major scientists work. I would be interested in working here. 

— Marital status? 

— I'm not married and I'm definitely not going to be anytime soon. 

— Why aren't you getting married? 

Damira looked at him like a teacher might look at an impudent student who had shouted «what is a condom?» to the entire class. But she also answered bluntly with equanimity: 

— Because you can take the human out of the village, but you can't take the village out of the human. I have not yet met a man who would accept the role of a woman in the family... not a village view. 

The smart chief medical officer did not go further, but realized the benefits for himself. And then always-you hire a woman, and then after a while goes on maternity leave — and goodbye! Of course, he tried not to take female doctors on any plausible pretext, but he can't turn everyone away, otherwise he'll get a knock on the head. 

— Well, you probably suit me. Go to the human resources department and make out the documents, and tomorrow you can start your duties. 

***

The story began several years ago. Damira was then graduating from the University and thinking about her specialization. Medicine was developing with leaps and bounds in Dar-ul-Islamia. However, many specializations have not yet been accredited. And the graduate had a choice — to stay here and get available specializations or go abroad. 

Then the relatives began to think that it would be good to get married. That's how much more you have to learn, so you can stay an old maid. Damira saw how many groupmates got married and even managed to give birth. «Maybe I should go, too». 

That's just hitba1 brought only grief. First she didn't like the groom, then the groom didn't like her. Sometimes she had the feeling that it was like a thoroughbred dog show, where the exterior, color, build, and training were evaluated, and she hated that. And then there was the question — of how to combine study and family? It is no secret that training as a doctor requires a huge return, and she has repeatedly seen how many girls so to speak went off the course, not coping with it. And if there is a child, then you will have to give up the dream of becoming a doctor altogether. 

Damira realized that you can just not get married. Easy to say — try it! Well this is such a short period of time. Deciding what if it does, Damira decided to go on the offensive. Now on hitba after a preliminary conversation, she asked the following questions. 

— How would you feel about me working? 

And immediately, the candidates shied. 

— Why? I earn enough money. 

— No, I just like the profession. I want to work in medicine. And is it bad if there is more money? 

And, as a rule, she saw dissatisfaction or at least loss of interest in it. If that wasn't enough, she'd ask the last question. 

— How would you feel about delaying the birth of children? 

— What? 

— We will live together, but we will protect ourselves from pregnancy. I would like to finish my residency, and I would like to work hard, and not go on maternity leave after six months. 

And everything. As a rule, the matchmaking ended in nothing. Someone said that she has the right to dispose of life as she wants, but he does not agree to such a plan of action, but unfortunately, there were those who clearly expressed surprise that a woman wants to do as she wants, and not do everything that her husband wants. 

The last matchmaking finished him off completely. 

— Women are being allowed too much. In my opinion, they should be forbidden to study and work, otherwise, instead of doing what they are supposed to do, they begin to show off «And I want to work! And I don't want children!». 

— Forbid to study, you say? 

— In order to cook dinner and give birth to children, education is absolutely useless, even on the contrary — smart becomes where it is not necessary and begins to contradict her husband. 

In Damira everything was stirred up by the consumer attitude to women. And when it was necessary, it could become as hard as a sole and hit you accordingly, like this sole in the face. 

— I'm sorry I don't have prayer rug,2 I would now do sujud3 in gratitude for the fact that scum like you do not run the Dar-ul-Islamia. 

— Oh, you...! 

— You look like a pimply spoiled teenager who believes that girls should smoke from love only from the fact of the presence of primary sexual characteristics and then is surprised that they do not give him, and writes in the Internet what bitches they are. Naturally, no sensible girl wants to get involved with you. Therefore, your ideal is a wordless slave, preferably illiterate and unemployed, so that she cannot exactly leave you. But this is not the time of jahiliyyah,4 so you'll have to change your outlook on life if you don't want to be alone. 

The man jumped up and tried to hit her in the face, but Damira dodged, and he fell to the table by inertia. The countertop cracked. Damira jumped up to run away before he got up, and the kitchen staff rushed in and began tying him up with towels. They called the police. He ended up being forced to pay for a broken table and broken dishes. Yes, it's not over yet for Damira. News of the incident quickly spread around the city, and Damira did not hide anything, which greatly damaged his reputation. 

Damira initially wanted to study as a therapist, but when she realized that she would not be allowed to live in peace, she decided to do a residency in neurology abroad. Then, when she returned home, she realized that she was getting too much into the taste of life in a rented apartment. In the residency program, at first she was afraid, but about Damira you could tell this joke: «Extrovert: what a horror — no one is home! Introvert: hooray — there is no one at home!». And here-consider an introvert's paradise. She wanted to go for a walk — she went for a walk, she wanted to stay at home for a whole day — she stayed and no one will say anything. As for cooking, then of course no one will cook or serve, but again there is a mood to cook — you can do magic in the kitchen, there is no desire — cooked quickly from semi-finished products, Damira was not a fan of healthy food, considering it the lot of those who have nothing else to do. 

Now living in her father's house, Damira felt a dull irritation. After the quiet of her rented apartment, it seemed to her that the house was too crowded and noisy, and she was used to freedom of action and did not like control. It was possible, as before, to rent an apartment, but at the same time I did not want to deal with resentments: — why don't you want to stay in our house? Don't you feel bad with us? 

— Dreiser, what are you doing at work? Your shift is already over! — asked a colleague Kamaev. 

— I don't want to go home. I'm sick of it! 

— You need to rest, too. 

— Yes, I do not rest there, but suffer! In one psychological experiment, volunteers lived in a room that was designed in such a way that it was impossible to stay alone for a minute. The result, in my opinion, is predictable: people were ready to kill each other. 

— Your parents won't accept that you not only finished your studies, but are already working as a doctor? — mockingly-sympathetically noted Kamaev. 

— I'm thinking how to eat a fish and not choke on a bone. I'm thinking about moving to a rented place, but you know what I mean... 

— Yes, what not to understand-he moved out with his family, such a scandal was because of it! I have an idea! You can apply to the Ahmed Jabaal’s research Institute! 

— That would be wonderful! But I don't think they'll take me. 

— Why not? Why don't they take your brain? 

— Well, for the reason that I'm female. 

— Oh, discrimination... 

— Yes, not discrimination! You know, an employer can be understood: you take an employee, and she will take and sail away on maternity leave, and again think about what to plug the hole. And if you don't tell her not to give birth — they'll immediately be ostracized, saying what kind of goat is encroaching on reproductive rights! 

— Well, if you haven't gotten married yet — then you're definitely not planning on getting married any time soon. Yes, you don't get hit in the eye for asking a question, you can try, and suddenly it will work out! 

— It will work out. 

***

— And here's new doctor, Damira van Heinrich Dreiser. I ask you to make her welcome, please — she introduced by Gayan Musayev. 

A young woman in a white coat looked up at her appraisingly. Damira was also looked over from head to toe in response. She was small in stature, wearing a thin white scarf, and her features were almost foxy — small, narrow eyes, and a long nose. The white coat didn't really hide the fact of her pregnancy, but for some reason Damira felt like She wasn't trying to hide it. The girl was tired of this, and she gave a gaze that «adults stumble on the move, and children pee in their pants». Like, there's nothing to stare at, I'm not a Museum exhibit. 

— Kamilya Hasanova — and named Kamilya asked, — is that really your name? 

— No, it's a literary pseudonym. 

Oh, this natural female hostility, when any representative of the female sex is a priori a rival, although, in fact, there is nothing to divide! Therefore, Damira found it easier to find a common language with men — they did not suffer from such things. Gayan quietly released a comment that the girls rather did not get along. 

— Are you married? 

— No. 

— Why not? 

— Don't you think you're prying into something that's none of your business? 

— Come on, I'll show the research Institute to you in all its glory! — said the chief. 

— I want to warn you right away — However, this is not an ordinary hospital where everyone is treated. Therefore, I resist you the temptation to take everyone in a row. Tagirov does not like unjustified hospitalizations and very much swears for them. «Well, how is it in the Muslim way — to refuse help?». «And wasting the time of professors on osteochondrosis — in the Muslim way?! Osteochondrosis does not care who treats it, and in general it is not a poorhouse, but a scientific Institute!». 

— And if he's ischemic stroke? 

— If a person is in danger, of course, we will not leave him, but if there is no urgency — do not hesitate to send him to another hospital or clinic. Yes, they swear, it's like, these Ahmedovs think they're smart, do not want to treat patients, but it will burn, so go to bow — help. And one more specific point. 

— Yeah? 

— As you can see, our clinic is often visited by people in authority, and some of them don't like to hear the word 'no'. 

— Big wigs? 

— Well, sort of. And when they hear the word «no», they start threatening to call, write, tell where to go. It is better to send them to Tagirov — he knows how to talk to them. 

— Hm, hm, — Damira had no illusions about the relationship between a doctor and a patient for a long time. Most often, the patients were polite, but, nevertheless, it was enough truly hideous. 

— What's the impression? 

— I abstain. 

— Not very positive? Well, as for Hasanova — she's going on maternity leave anyway, so don't pay any attention. And as I see it, you're not a delicate violet at all, so you can handle it, In sha Allah. 

***

— You don't need to be hospitalized. Please contact the clinic. 

— I did come all this way for nothing, did I? 

— It turns out, for nothing. Didn't the doctors tell you that even if you came here, you wouldn't be admitted to the hospital? 

— Ha! — she said, — they didn't want to give me a directions, but I was insistent! 

«Wallachy,5 they're tired of you and decided to give you directions to get rid of you — Let them figure it out», — Damira sincerely sympathized with the doctors of that clinic, but they are not the ones who are now being brain-eaten! 

— Why do you need hospitalization in this particular clinic? 

— For examination. 

The girl just shook her head, lying down here to be examined — it's like calling the president about a broken faucet. And they will call — they have the nerve. 

As luck would have it, there were no urgent patients, or even just patients, so this old woman could sit and bicker. Damira was beginning to get angry... but stopped. The law, of course, was on her side — inpatient care is the most expensive and a doctor even if he wanted to, cannot put everyone right and left in the hospital. But if she actually runs to complain, it will definitely ruin her nerves. The old woman may be stubborn, but a donkey compared to Damira is a model of pliability. She took out her PDA and began reading a book on topical diagnostics. The old woman was taken aback by this impertinence. 

— What's that supposed to mean? 

— As is, so is it understood. Hospitalization is not indicated, well, if you like it so much, you can sit here. 

— I'm going to complain! What the hell is this? 

Damira didn't understand what they were trying to achieve with threats. A bad doctor will not get better from this, except that it will be more fawning, but a good one will certainly carefully maintain documentation, so that there is something to show if they really complain, but is unlikely to be filled with sympathy and desire to help. But many almost from the threshold begin to threaten, and then are surprised at the lack of warm reception. 

The unit has already transmitted a call from the chief physician. 

— Congratulations on your first rape session, — laughed Samat. 

— If the doctor wasn't sued once this month, then he was on vacation! — Gali said. 

— I'm not afraid. 

Damira went up to the chief physician. 

— What's that supposed to mean? She claims that you were rude to her at the reception, expressed disdain, even sat in your smartphone! 

— Just a minute, — Damira took out her smartphone and played back the recording. 

— As you can see, I did not say a single rude word, I conducted the reception in full, and I taken my phone in after the reception ended. Do you know what it's called? Slander is called... which means I have every right to sue. 

— Please don't do that, — the old woman said, instantly looking pitiful, — I'm an old, sick woman, and I feel so bad, so bad, if you only knew. 

— But to the chief medical officer to complain you very even cheerfully ran, — she could not resist cutting remark, — okay, I forgive you, but only because I do not really want to drag myself around the courts, although it would not hurt. Perhaps, in future, you would be ashamed to raise slander. 

— So you don't have a problem with Dr. Dreiser? — the chief physician narrowed his eyes. 

— No, not at all. 

— That's great. 

When the old woman left, the head doctor turned to Damira. 

— Did you record the conversation on a Dictaphone? 

— Advice from foreign colleagues — if the patient is a brawler at the reception, it is better to turn on the Dictaphone just in case, so that there is something to show later. 

— Um... um... but without consent, without warning... is it legal? 

— Is it legal to slander me? I don't know if I would be able to justify myself, if anything, — and she looked coldly at the chief physician. 

***

Coming out of the office, Damira sighed. There was one teacher who constantly teaching students, telling stories of patients framed doctors, even to the point that they ended up behind bars. At the time, she didn't understand why to say such nasty things, in this way you can stop wanting to help the patients. «I really hope that you young friends will never face this, but now the time is different and the attitude towards doctors is different, and I am telling you this not so that you hate the patients, but so that you do not lose your guard. Just as in surgery we are advised to be wary of any patient, both potentially HIV-infected, so here I advise you to always perceive the patient as a possible plaintiff». He also gave advice to carefully maintain documentation, do not take anyone's word for it, and always take receipts. Yes, and the Dictaphone also advised. Damira was glad now that she had remained vigilant, despite the fact that all the patients were benevolent... until this day. 

— Well, how? Did he scold you too much? 

— He didn't scold me. I produced a recording of the conversation, so the old woman quickly lost her arrogance. 

— Clever! — Gali approved, — but, to be honest, it smacks of paranoia. 

— It's better to overdo it than underdo it. 

— That's right! — Camilya with a sour look. In the eyes of so and read — «You're so smart!». Damira could not understand the reason for such dislike. 

«Wallahy. She will go on maternity leave anyway, so let's not quarrel». 

— I could have been reprimanded. 

— Be glad that Allah has taken it away. We have worse cases. 

— Yes, he was... especially enterprising. Everyone wants to get here, but of course not everyone we take them. Here is one such helped with hospitalization... for remuneration. However, he was exposed under the following circumstances: a doctor had an argument with a patient like you today, and she said that I will still be here. He didn't pay any attention to the words, and then he sees that it is true that he is lying in the ward, and he is gloating — but she did say so! He of course whispered to the chief medical officer, who conducted an investigation and exposed. 

— Don't be too afraid of punishments, — Tagirov adheres to the policy that if you punish a subordinate too often, he will lose sensitivity to them. Of course, in the early days there were also losses of bonuses and even reprimands, but then we became smarter, and it became easier to work. 

— Well. 

***

— It means operating on Fallot's tetrad I have the right, but not to treat banal sciatica? — the Director of the cardiac surgery center was furious. Asel Zakirova, the daughter of the famous neurosurgeon Faiz Zakirova, already an honorary holder of the medallion of a doctor who ensures immunity during military operations, nervously tapped her fingers — Yes, you understand that they will laugh at me if I call akhmedov for an osteochondrosis consultation! 

— If an employee wants to have his sciatica looked at by a specialist from the Ahmed’s center — then let the employee look at it. The consultation will be paid for! 

— Yes, it is clear that it will be paid. It's just that I don't see any sense in it! Let's call a gastroenterologist for each exacerbation of chronic gastritis, for each runny nose — ENT, and for each bronchitis — a pulmonologist! Moreover, the rank is not lower than the chied of the unit! 

— Don't distort it, but do as you're told. 

— He that mischief hatches, mischief catches..., — she said, dialing the number. 

— Good afternoon. I need a neurologist's consultation. Diagnosis: lumbar radiculopathy. Persistent pain syndrome. Don't bother with the experts, it's just as banal as it gets. Yes, I would even call did not, well, I symptoms’ Neri and Dejerine can't hold? But they want you to take a look. 

Asel, as a follower of the old school, could not stand it when a specialist knows only his own organ — and no other one else. By God, a step to the right, a step to the left-and begins to talk such nonsense that even a medical student is ashamed to pronounce! 

— Tell me what the quail rhythm consists of! — she asked the young residents with a Jesuitical smile. 

— But why this propaedeutics of internal diseases?! — they tried to snap back. 

— Oh, why? Have you ever heard such words as clinical thinking? Of course, why do you need this auscultation of the heart, when there is an MRI, a cybermedic! Heart murmurs — a direct reflection of the hemodynamics of the defect! Previously, a doctor could make a diagnosis simply by holding a stethoscope to his chest. So, until you learn how to work with living patients-not a step in the operating room! Or do you just want to cut, and then — everything else can go to hell?! 

She looked at her sternly... Rachel. 

Asel stifled an exclamation. After all, without self-control, a surgeon has nothing to do, much less operate on an open heart. As she looked closer, she realized that it wasn't Rachel — the girl's eyes were gray, and Rachel's were dark brown. And there were no scars on his face. 

— Where is your nomenclature patient? 

— In ward 11. 

Strong phenotypic similarity is based on genotypic similarity. That is, if you see two very similar people, then it is more likely to assume a kinship relationship than a coincidence. 

Taking advantage of the opportunity, she casually looked at the name and surname of the consultant. Neurologist Damir van Heinrich Dreiser. 

— That's an amazing name. 

— My father is German, — the neurologist explained. 

— You have a temper. Just like you father. 

— How do you know my father? 

— I had to deal with them when I was young. 

Asel sat down in the study and began to remember. She giggled nervously. Make heart surgeon with twenty years of experience giggle nervously — you need to have some skill for that. If you add to this the first operation to remove appendicitis at fifteen years of age and the operation for a gunshot wound to the abdominal cavity and the subsequent resuscitation of a patient who gave out a cardiac arrest... Then the picture looked truly surreal. 

«Oh, Yes... If you think about her age, then she was conceived at the moment when her father came to me to repent of rape». Although... Rushan was definitely not German. Asel again sat down in the chair. At the last meeting, she'd announced that she didn't want to see him again. Then the team gathered to rescue him from the wreckage of a collapsing building. And actually they gathered then for the last time — their leader liked to work alone. Harun pointed out tartly that Rushan had previously tolerated them, because without psionic abilities, he could not do anything himself. Asel would have put it down to an age-old jealousy of superiority, but now she doubted if she could consider him a friend. A Muslim state under construction. An invitation to head a cardiac surgery center. Operations, operations, operations... She and Harun were too busy to have children. A cardiac surgery center and a whole galaxy of professional surgeons — what is not your own child, personally raised? What about the kids? It hadn't worked out that way, and she wasn't going to overreact. 

Asel hadn't seen him for so long that she couldn't even tell if he was still alive. 

She was suddenly acutely curious to see if such a person existed or not. Is it a hallucination or delirium? 

— Find me Ilham. A combat veteran in such and such a year. His right leg was amputated. 

***

The fact that the past was not a delusion was the fact that Ilham was alive and had a bionic prosthesis. And he was married... to Ilkina. Although Asel wouldn't be surprised if he married someone else. Too much water had flowed and too much could have happened. 

— Oh, the girl who cut out the appendix when she was fifteen? I knew you'd be a good doctor! And who are you working on now? 

— Director of the cardiac surgery center. 

— You're a high-flying bird. 

— Do you remember... Rushan? 

Ilkina frowned: 

— The purple-eyed guy who saved us all but almost got himself killed? 

«He remembers! I haven't lost my mind yet!». 

— Yes, that's him. 

— Is he alive, by the way? And then he was stooled and never seen again 

— Yes, he's alive. I met him personally later. 

— Oh, really? 

— He's as lively as it gets. 

— He's a jerk, he did not visit us, so that we might not mourn for him? And you're good, too! 

Asel sighed. 

— To tell you the truth, he's a very uncommunicative man. So uncommunicative that I met him myself twenty years ago. 

— Of course he's a jerk! Sure, he's done a lot for us, but he's behaving like a total bastard! 

— You have no idea how much he's done for you. 

— Why does it bother you so much? — Ilkina narrowed her eyes — you were living without him. And suddenly she was interested in him. You even found us. What's wrong? 

— I think Rushan has a daughter. And I even saw her. 

— Well, there is. Even if he has a dozen children, it's none of your business. 

— It depends on who he's breeding them from, — Asel said. 

— No fucking way, — Ilkina still had not the habit of cursing, — so you a small bird, I would advise you not to go too far in that direction. This story is similar to a fairy tale that they liked to tell at a camp. Therefore, few people will believe you, and even fewer can tell you anything useful. Besides, he's a big shot, and he won't like it much if someone finds out about his kids. 

***

— Damira, a Damira? 

— What do you want? — she is not very friendly. 

— And I know why you ran away abroad. I know how you've been showing off to suitors, and you've even provoked one of them to strike... 

Damira grabbed her breasts and then pinned her to the wall. Nothing would happen to her child, and she needed to be disciplined. Camilya experienced the fright of a person who teased a patient dog for a long time, and it took and bit. 

— Never poke your nose into someone else's purse, someone else's bed, or someone else's underwear, or you'll be surprised to find yourself smeared all over the wall! Do you understand me?— 

— U-understood. 

Damira was roughly flung aside. 

— You're jealous of me! 

— Envy what? That everyone wants to get rid of you and can't wait for you to go on maternity leave? 

— You failed as a woman! 

— But I'm an expert. 

— Sterile blossom! 

— Talking ahem..., — swallowing the obscene word that so begged for the tongue — uterus! 

— What? — screamed Camilya. 

— Girls, girls, do not quarrel during work, do not drop authority! After work, you can at least kill each other, only tomorrow come at eight o'clock sharp! — Musayev intervened, and with obvious approval to Damira, — I didn't expect you to be so witty, that's what it means to read books in your spare time. 

Camilya's face was blotchy with red — and the casual insult threatened to become a catchphrase. And by the snide look of Gayan it was obvious to Gayan that he would try to make this happen. 

***

— Damira, can you come visit? We have a serious conversation. 

Her twin sister, Medina, was married. But they couldn't conceive a child in any way. Damira said to go to the center for reproductive medicine — and where else can she advise her to go? 

— Medina has idiopathic infertility. 

It happens — a perfectly healthy girl comes, her menstrual cycle can be demonstrated as a visual aid for students, and in General, she can bear and give birth to a football team and still have enough strength for a couple of children. But there's no way she can get pregnant. And this option was actually the worst, because if there were real health problems, they could be solved. 

— I'm very sorry, — she said, honestly not understanding what was being asked of her. 

— There is an opportunity to get pregnant... 

— How? — Damira was still confused. 

— Take your eggs. 

— Ahem, — «Wallahy!», — are you serious? 

— Yes, — her sister said for the first time that evening. 

— Do you know what is the difference between fraternal and identical twins? 

— What's that supposed to mean? 

— Because identical twins are caused by the division of the embryo into two parts. Therefore, they are genetically identical, you can say clones of each other. And different-type eggs are produced as a result of fertilization of two different eggs with different spermatozoa. And this means that they are genetically completely different. And they may have different sexes. 

— And? 

— My God, you can't ignore biology to that extent! I can't explain it any better — if you take my egg, fertilize it, and make a baby out of it, it's not genetically your baby! 

— Are you sorry? You're not going to get married anyway! And so I will have a child! 

— Thank you so much for pointing this out my marital status. You know what it's like? Give me a kidney, I have children, but you are not married and you can live with one! — the girl flared up and was going to leave. 

— Damira, stop! — ordered the mother. 

— Well, what is it? 

— Please don't be mad. She's just very upset about the diagnosis, and only you can help her. 

— What about the younger sisters? 

— They are minors and cannot participate in donation. 

— In a few years, they will. 

— Damira, — I said... 

— So I agree to help, but on one condition — I don't ask why you need it, and you don't blame me for not getting married. Even if you say about half a word — you will wait until your sisters grow up. 

***

The technician had an unpleasant look in her eyes. Damira knew that was the way they usually looked when something came up that the patient didn't really want to admit. 

— You can't be a donor. 

— But why? I'm healthy... And I don't have any genetic diseases! 

The technician's gaze grew even colder. 

— Do you know the egg donation rule? 

— The donor can only be a close relative. But there must be some mistake... We are siblings! 

— We've double-checked it several times. There can be no mistake — you are not sisters. And actually the degree of kinship is zero integers... 

That is, if you take a random person on the street and check their degree of kinship — the percentage will be about the same. 

— This can't be happening 

This explained the mysterious conversation with the director of the cardiac surgery center. She knew something! She should go to her and find out what's going on! 

The cold, gloved hands clamped down on her mouth mercilessly. Damira was dragged like a sack to the car. In truth, the girl was more dazed than scared — what the hell was going on? The possibility of someone snatching her off in the middle of the day was so far out of her mind that there was simply no room for fear. 

Across from her sat a man who was intimidating in appearance alone. He was two meters tall and weighed almost a hundred kilograms, and these kilograms were not fat mass at all. His deep-set eyes were shadowed by massive brow ridges, and his face was framed by a black, short, thick beard. It barely fit in the spacious cabin, and Damira had to squeeze into the remaining space. 

— What kind of illegal detention is this in the middle of the day? 

— Dear lady, I strongly recommend that you keep your indignation and other inappropriate emotions to yourself. I can assure you that there is no immediate threat to your life or health. 

— So why this idiotic scene with the kidnapping? 

— Will you cooperate, or will I calm you down? — the last word was uttered so ominously that Damira did not want to know how she would be «calmed». 

— Listen. 

— Then the instructions will be very brief. Don't tell anyone what the lab tech told you. Not to you father, not to you mother, not to your favorite female friend. Not a single living soul. And don't even try to discuss it with anyone via messenger. Do you understand me? 

— What about Medina? How will they explain to her why they won't take my eggs? 

— That's not your concern. You will follow orders or… — Damira thought of another way to silence her. 

— I won't tell anyone. 

***

Damira had left her notebook in the emergency room, so she went down to the office, where Camilya received a young girl. She took the object she was looking for from the table, but she clearly didn't like the conversation she'd overheard. The girl complained of a feeling of running goosebumps, and Camilya said it was because of the new shoes. 

«Wallahy, new shoes noticed, and but rejects the obvious symptom!». 

— Camilya, can we go out and talk? 

She got up with obvious displeasure and went out into the corridor. 

— Don't you think it's not that simple? 

— Are you the smartest person here? Here and get smart in a different place! 

Damira cursed inwardly: it was clear that Camilya wanted to go home, so she did not want to bother with research, or even with hospitalization, and therefore she wanted to convince that this symptom meant nothing and send her home. But intuition, foresight, whatever you want to call it! — combined with her experience and knowledge, it was clearly not a good thing. Of course, it was possible through threats and scandal to force the examination to be carried out properly, but if the sheep wants to check how strong the gate is — for God's sake! 

— In that case, you're probably right — it's all from the new shoes, — and went up to the unit. 

In the evening of this day, the girl was brought in a serious condition with respiratory failure. Acute inflammatory demyelinating polyradiculoneuropathy or, according to the author, Guillain-Barre syndrome, associated with the fact that the wires of electrical nerves lost their insulation — myelin sheath, resulting in paralysis of the motor muscles. Tagirov was sweating and praying. He had already planned to remove Hasanova, so he pretended not to know anything about her absences. Let the person be sure of their impunity — it is easier to catch him in the act later! But now her thoughtlessness had cost a man his health! Moreover, it was the diplomat's first cousin. Tagirov preferred to avoid scandals around his research Institute, so he quietly removed the guilty doctors, but now he decided to arrange a show execution, so the fate of the guilty doctors is unknown. Camilya was a foregone conclusion. 

— What was she complaining about? 

— Nothing like that... 

— Nothing like that? She came here to chat with a friend?! 

— Well... she complained feeling of running goosebumps. 

— What did you do? 

— I... — knowing what her version of tight shoes would sound like. 

— You didn't do anything! You wanted to run home faster, so you didn't investigate! Of course, you could have skipped the section on Guillain-Barre syndrome, but isn't paresthesia in a young healthy woman suspicious? 

— Guillain-Barre Syndrome? — she said, reading the paragraph in past, — is it really that bad? 

— Yes! She has tetraplegia and respiratory failure! She is on a ventilator! You missed it, do you understand that, you idiot?! Now it will take at least a year to restore motor functions! This is the best case scenario! 

«Don't you think it's not that simple?». 

— What's going to happen to me? 

— You'll be get fired! 

— No one's going to hire me! 

— You should have thought earlier! If your standing in the family way does not allow you to properly perform your duties — you should have quit! You can pick up your documents in the HR department! You free! 

The woman came out more dead than alive. Who knew it would be so serious? And Damira knew something, but she didn't think it necessary to warn her! She burst into the doctor’s lounge and began to scream: 

— This is all your fault! You framed me! 

The girl looked at her in bewilderment. 

— Did something happen? 

— I'm being fired, that's what happened! 

— What's it got to do with me? 

— With what? You could have warned me that she was seriously ill! 

— A-a-a «new shoes»? And what happened to her? 

— She has Guillain-Barre syndrome! She is lying in intensive care, and the chief doctor decided that I was to blame and fired me for the article! 

— You're the one who made the decision to let her go home without examining her. 

This impenetrable calm, designed to balance the nervousness of patients suffering from diseases of the nervous system, it worked like a red rag on a bull. Gali grabbed her just as she was about to pounce on Damira. She screamed like a madwoman and tried to reach out to her hated rival, but the man was much stronger than her, who gently but insistently escorted her out of the doctor’s lounge. 

— Was she like this before she was pregnant? 

— No, — Gali said, — Camilya had previously been unsuccessfully treated for infertility for several years. She suffered, of course, but you could deal with her. And as soon as she got pregnant, she was out of control. Progesterone was hit in the head. That's the answer to why I didn't get married. If my wife freaks out like that, I'll go crazy myself! 

— It won’t, — Damira said coldly and indifferently, — so when she got pregnant, from now on people without children — they nobody from nowhere, and the attitude to them is appropriate. 

— Hmm, — said Samat, — and after all our Tagirov is being served, he covers his ass! 

— What makes you think that? 

— Tagirov is very concerned for the reputation of the center, so he prefers to solve such cases on the sly. But here, on the contrary, I decided to arrange a demonstration execution, and not just for someone, but for someone. 

— That means Camilya was just very unlucky. 

— To be honest, on one hand I feel sorry for her, but on the other I feel relieved. 

Call. 

— Damira, listen, here's the deal... 

— What happened? 

— Medina and Abduljabbar are getting a divorce. 

— What? 

— Abduljabbar was given a high-ranking position in a branch of the construction Corporation. And Medina is categorically opposed to moving abroad. 

«It was a clever idea, — she thought, feeling the taste of iron in her mouth. —Abduljabbar is an ambitious man and will not miss such a good position. And I almost had a big fight with Medina when I was going to do my residency abroad. Yes more likely the white man will move to Bantar Gebang,6 before she leaves the Dar-ul-Islamiya. Yes, and she won't just let her husband go. What if kafir women in depraved clothes seduced him? Fool!». 

— Just one divorce, right? Can they still make up? 

— You can't make it up to them? 

The choicest profanity came from the depths of her soul. 

— I'm actually working! And I can't come running at the first call! They are adults and will decide for themselves what to do. 

So it wasn't really a reconciliation, but more of a brainwash. 

— A normal wife would be happy to see her husband in such a good position. 

— Abroad? 

— Of course, people abroad wear clothes that barely cover their private parts, regardless of the time of year or weather conditions! Yes, and they fuck wherever they have to, right on the lawn, without covering themselves with any vegetation. 

— Can you say such a nasty thing? 

— It's called sarcasm, honey. 

— You see, you've gone bad there. And Abduljabbar is there, too... 

— ... who previously had no relationship with anyone other than his wife, will start fucking right and left, will practice all sorts of perversions, and will contract all the venereal diseases at once… 

***

— Damira took sugar with her for a walk and scattered it next to the anthill. She was prepared to watch for hours as the ants dragged the sweet crystals back to their nest. Nearby, children were running around in the Playground. 

A loud squeal cut through the usual babble of children's voices. Medina screamed, rubbing her bruised forehead: 

— Hafsa hit me with a swing! 

Hafsa was fat, freckled, and extremely nasty. Immediately, the teacher came running and began to scold her, and Hafsa listened to her with her hands on her hips. 

«What's the use of being scolded? — Damira thought, — she doesn't feel guilty in the least! No, it has to be different with her!». 

The next day, the girls were taken to the pool. Damira came to Hafsa. 

— Here comes the snitch! What, Medina, do you want another swing? 

— I'm not Medina, I'm Damira! — and pushed her over the edge of the pool. 

— Save me!!! Help!!! — Hafsa shrieked, pounding the water with her hands. 

The teacher pulled the girl out of the water. 

— Damira pushed me!!! 

The first thing that caught the eye of the teacher was that usually children, having committed a misdemeanor, hide their eyes or stand with their heads down, in General, in every way show that they are ashamed. Damira, on the other hand, just stared at her, her gray eyes wide. 

— Do you know what you've done? She could have drowned! 

— No, she wouldn't have drowned, — said the girl; — they would have dragged her out, or thrown her a plank. But now she will no longer hurt my sister, In sha Allah. 

Perhaps for the first time in her life, the teacher did not find anything to say. Even before that, she had been surprised that the twins, even though they looked alike, were completely different in character. Medina was a fun, mischievous child who loved to play with dolls and outdoor games and missed reading and writing lessons. Damira, on the other hand, was a quiet girl who preferred to put together mosaics or paint in a corner. But she was very smart, learning the surahs from the Koran in a flash, while the other children mixed up the words wherever they could. 

— Don't ever do that again! 

— I can't promise that. 

***

— There, imagine, the most ordinary people live. They communicate. They start families. They gather at the table. They are not Muslims, but they are not savages either. 

— Abduljabbar will not go there! 

— So that's it, sister. From now on, you can handle your own problems! How long can I babysit you?! I'm not complaining that a doctor at my office went crazy about her pregnancy, and because of her frivolity, the patient was admitted in a serious condition! And what consequences that entails! After all, asking someone to solve your problems is childish! 

«Yes, a hen will never understand a hawk. Although, no wonder if I was thrown into someone else's nest. Ah, genetics, you heartless bitch». 

— You've spent all these years with a man and you don't know how their brains work? So, the man is ready to tolerate a lot. Hysterics. Whims. The tenth pair of shoes. Even infertility can be tolerated. But what he will never forgive is when his wings are clipped. Help to reconcile — is it to persuade him to give up his position? Well, I won't try to persuade him. And you take note. Either you change your Outlook on life in some way — or you get a divorce. 

***

— I'm going to divulge a secret — — she said quietly, but clearly looking at the video camera, and dialed Asel Zakirova's number. 

As soon as the six horns sounded, a familiar car appeared through the window. 

— How punctual. 

— You're going to use cheap blackmail?! — the bearded man was clearly angry. If anything, it was the fact that the events were taking place in the middle of a crowded place that kept them from taking action. 

— Cheap, but effective. 

— What do you want? 

— I want you to take me to your boss. I don't know the name of your organization, but I want to talk to your boss. 

— Don't you want too much? 

— Well, judging by the care you've taken in keeping the secret of my birth, my request is quite adequate. Maybe it's easier to explain the situation than constantly fear, so that I wouldn't accidentally let it slip, huh? 

The bearded man was snuffling like a bull at a bullfight, but then a miracle happened — he wrote a message. 

— The chief has given me permission. Go. 

Damira wondered how they could keep the location of the headquarters secret. It turned out to be quite simple — the driver put on some glasses and the glass immediately lost its transparency, becoming silvery, like a mirror. Due to the smoothness of the ride, it gave the impression that the car was always going in a straight line. It is not known how much time passed when they finally arrived at the right place. People who posed as secret agents did not differ in appearance from — white collars— — they were dressed according to the dresscode, sat at computers and were not surprised by anything at all. Including an unexpected visitor. 

— The chief is waiting for you, — he said, and pushed her toward the office. Damira hissed angrily, realizing that the rudeness was deliberate — the bearded man was very good at measuring strength. 

The girl looked at the mysterious chief. His appearance was remarkable — red-haired, energetic, very mobile. 

— To clarify, your parents don't know you're an adopted daughter. 

— Do you realize how absurd that sounds? From the point of view of biology, medicine, common sense in General?! How can you give birth — and not know that you gave birth? 

— This information requires fifth-degree access. 

— Even if it's a hundred-and-fifteen! 

The agent looked ruefully at the enraged doctor. 

— Are you sure you want to know? Maybe it's better to erase the memory? 

— And the first memory scan will show it up. Or again, there will be a situation where you will need a genetic test. No, that won't do. 

— There is a reason, — the agent agreed, — sometimes it is really better not to erase certain memories. But do you understand that access to the fifth degree requires certain obligations? 

— By the way, I work with medical secrecy! 

— Nevertheless, you can mention in a conversation or at a scientific conference that you have had such and such a clinical case, without mentioning names. And the harm of disclosing medical secrets is not comparable to the harm of disclosing state secrets. 

The Emir half rose: 

— It's a state secret — you can't tell it to your family or friends, even in the form of a funny joke, and then you can't mention it. Because you don't have the imagination to imagine the consequences if this information falls into the wrong hands. 

— And what kind of secret can it be that I'm adopted and not my own daughter? 

— Yeah? Imagine and it can be a secret. The information may be strange or even absurd, but it must be treated as seriously as a blueprint for a secret weapon. Because they are ridiculous only at first glance. 

— So what do you need to do to get access? 

— Enlist. 

— What? 

— Become a secret agent. Of course, no one will oblige you to insinuate yourself into the confidence of a foreign government — the level of training is not the same, frankly. But this imposes certain restrictions. 

— Like what? 

— You can forget the word privacy. Generally. No, no one will spy on you in the shower, but all your messages will be read, all your calls will be tapped. When you discuss ways to make jam with your mom and dad, it's still nothing, but imagine that you want to talk to your husband about what position you are going to have sex in. 

Damira only chuckled, making it clear that this was no way to embarrass her. After all, medicine is not for the tender and tremulous. 

— You will get married not only with the approval of your parents, but also with the approval of our organization. If your fiancé turns out to be a sleeper — you will never marry him under any circumstances. And Yes, your loved ones will be watched — purely for good reasons, so that no one can take them hostage and blackmail you. And all for what? 

— You've already interfered with my family's life. I am not going to passively watch, how they do whatever they want with my family. 

— Don't regret your decision. 

***

In place of the dismissed Hasanova took Dr. Maryam Valiullova. In addition to being a good specialist, Maryam was divorced three times. 

— When I first got married, — Maryam said with a laugh, — it was just an unearthly love. Only, alas, we are simple people who drink and eat. And we got divorced because of domestic. 

— What kind of domestic, Maryam Maratovna? 

— I don't know how to cook, — the woman said with a laugh, — I don't know if I was jinxed or those born to crawl can't fly. I have a unique talent for making even the simplest dishes inedible. Though I do everything according to the recipe. My family tried over me and then they gave up and told me not to go near the kitchen stove. Everything seemed to be going well — I just arranged for a cafe to cook food and bring it home. So no one has suffered from my culinary masterpieces yet. But my mother-in-law began to hassling my husband, what kind of mess is this, his wife does not cook, and gives money to cooks! It is wrong! This is such an israf!7 And it was useless to tell her that we were making good money and could afford it. And the cooking took an unseemly amount of time. There was nothing to do — I stood behind the kitchen stove. But it is not for nothing that I began my story with the fact that I am forced to cook — only translate the food. That's when my husband, even being hungry as an animal, could not swallow what came out of my hands and eventually all the food went into the trash can. Scandal after scandal and divorce. 

— What about the second marriage? Also because of the cooking? 

— No, that's not why we got divorced. I immediately said that I would not cook even under the threat of being shot. The matter seems to have been settled. But the second husband was as clingy like stink on cheese. At first, everyone was jealous of me — he brought me to work and took me away from work, went to the shops with me, and their husbands are such jerks, they are tired, they do not have time, they just do not want. However, they quickly stopped envying me when he ran to the emergency room and made a row if I was late. Well, you know, ten minutes before the end of the working day, a patient will be brought in — and that's all, until you examine him, do not register, do not sign the treatment, then you will not go anywhere. But he turned out to be terribly jealous, and I even began to wonder if it wasn't psychiatry. I'm tired of explainingbthat a doctor can't have a standard working day like at the factory, when the bell rang — time to go home. Then he began to watch PDA, and each time he threw a tantrum, it was worth a male person to write to me. Then he demanded that I quit my job, because I was sure that I was having a hard time with my patients. I already could not stand it, but of course, the patients are mostly all old men and women with flabby wrinkled skin, saggy stomachs, it is so erotic, I just cannot! Honey, are you going to go to the bathroom with me so I don't cheat on you? I'm not even going to talk without a psychiatrist's certificate. He refused to see a psychiatrist and continued to harass me. I even had to call the police. I was about to file a harassment report, but fortunately, after one conversation with the police, he gave up. He may not be crazy, but I'm not looking forward to checking it out… 

— Dreiser, the patient is ill! — a nurse came running in. 

Damira grabbed a cybermedic and rushed to the ward. The patient was already surrounded by nurses. 

— What's wrong with him? 

— Unconscious, the pulse not detected, the pressure is at zero. They've already given me epinephrine. 

Damira turned on her cybermedic. On the ECG — ventricular fibrillation. 

— Get away from the bed! Discharge! 

The patient's body arched in a spasm. Several prongs appeared on the ECG and then disappeared. 

— Discharge! 

The events were repeated with terrifying accuracy. 

— Discharge! 

The cybermedic showed a straight line. 

— Get a ventilator on! I'm starting resuscitation! 

Damira began to press on her chest. 

— One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, one, two, three, four... 

Bogatov pulled her away from the patient's body. 

— What? 

— There's nothing we can do about it; — the chief was tugging at her arm. He took her into the doctor lounge and sat her down. 

Damira covered her face with her hands. 

— Dreiser, we can't help everyone, — she said Valiullova. 

The doctor raised her face. His eyes were dry, but red from dilated blood vessels. 

— That's not the point. My patients have died before. I am dead. 

— Why not? 

— Because I didn't put him in the ICU because I thought he was stable. Now the Commission may consider that I underestimated the severity of the patient's condition. Do you understand what that means for me? 

— If the death is deemed potentially preventable. 

— I'll lose my license. This is some kind of setup! He shouldn't have died! He doesn’t have to! I usually feel this way and immediately send you to ICU! 

— Dreiser, let me examine your patients, — Maryam suggested. 

— Thank you, but no. I can control myself. 

The chief physician called me to his office: 

— Your accident will be investigated. You will be suspended from work while all the circumstances are clarified. 

— As you say. 

Her heart felt as bad as if a regiment of soldiers had trampled it under their muddy boots. Needless to say, Dr. Dreiser didn't want to see or hear from anyone. When she got home, she tossed her bag on the floor and stuffed a couple of sandwiches down her throat, completely oblivious to the taste. The phone rang. 

— Damira, my husband left Medina... 

— Congratulations. What does that have to do with me? — the girl snapped. 

— She's crying... she's not well. 

— How you've bothered me with your problems!!! My God, what a grief - my husband is gone! All that remains is to soap the rope and hang yourself on it! She is already a big girl; why should she be coddled as a little one! Bad — then let him go to a psychiatrist! 

***

That agonizing feeling when you pick at the hope that everything will turn out okay, even though your mind and intuition say that no, it will not. Damira went up to the chief physician's office on wobbly legs. 

— Damira Dreiser... Your license has been revoked. 

The girl didn't flinch. The chief physician continued sorting through the documents, not looking at the face. 

— I thought you were good. I've never been so disappointed. You will pick up your documents in the HR department. You free. 

Tagirov appreciated the courage of the former doctor — she did not cry, did not even change her face, only nodded briefly, saying, I understand you. Then she turned and stalked out of the office, closing the door softly behind her. 

«Should I go and jump off the balcony? No, my parents will cry. I have to live. Although from now on, my life has no meaning», — she was so hurt that she couldn't even cry. 

Damira walked down the corridor and slammed her fist into the wall as hard as she could. 

— What happened to your arm? — asked the doctor Valiullova who had come to meet her. 

— What do you mean? — Damira squinted and saw that blood was dripping from the knuckles, and there was a trail of blood on the wall. She raised her hand and licked it. Maryam almost screamed in horror — her former colleague had a dead gaze. Not killed, but dead, as in the case of corpses in pathanatomy. 

— Well, that... Let's get your arm bandaged. 

— Not... Do not. It won't get any worse. I think I'll dispense with the parting ceremony. 

— And the things...? 

— I won't need them anymore. You can take them as a gift... or throw it away. 

— Damira, don't you dare be alone! 

A burning resentment flared in her chest, as if Damira had inhaled mustard gas. She hated herself, the people she couldn't call her parents, for giving birth to her, her unfortunate fate, medicine, the sick, the doctors, the board, and finally, she hated God for creating her and making her suffer so cruelly. 

Her inner tension seemed to set the air around her on fire. Behind him, the glass shattered, spilling a shower of silvery shards to the ground. 

«Temperature difference? Or incorrect installation? But what difference does it make to the devil?». 

She wanted to do something bad, something terrible to spite everyone. Spit in everyone's face, slap them in the face. 

— And I'll go get drunk with grief! — Damira went to the station to buy a ticket abroad. 

***

— Is there anything you can recommend for the treatment of emotional wounds? 

— I recommend a whiskey and soda. 

— Well. And a good dinner. And a snack. 

Damira had previously decided that the waiter was a servant of Satan who tempted weak people. Now she realized that this was a man just doing his job. 

The waiter brought julienne, canapés, and the required drink. He noted that although she had no experience in drinking alcohol, still she entered the science program. At first, she ate well, chewing the food mechanically, not tasting it. Although the food was good, she clearly didn't want to appreciate the skill of the cook. Then she began to pour it methodically, wincing at each shot of whiskey and taking a good bite of each drink. Therefore, she didn't get drunk right away, even though she drank decently. Her head was buzzing, and her body felt wobbly and unruly. The burning resentment turned to a dull ache. 

— Oh, you little drunk! — сказал Alyautdin said. 

— I'm not li-i-i-tle! — the trademark vocalization that is common to all drunk or recovering from anesthesia accompanied the speech, — I'm thirty now. 

And then the phrase about age reminded her of something. 

— Yes, I'm about thirty years old, and I'm nobody from nowhere! My license was revoked! This is even worse than being fired for an article! Because even in this case, you can find a job! And without a license, no lousy hospital will take me! 

— Well, your grief is not hard to understand. It was your whole life's work, for which you went to school with nothing but a's, didn't get enough sleep, didn't go to the movies once more — and then there was such a crash. I just don't know why you suddenly decided to get drunk all by yourself. Don't you have someone to share it with? 

— Share it? Are you kidding me? And to whom? Parents? So for them it is not a grief! This is a joy for them! — she slammed the table so hard that the dishes bounced. Fortunately, nothing broke, but the fork fell to the floor with a melancholy clatter. Damira looked at it thoughtfully, but didn't pick it up — well, thank God that the license was revoked, so I would have died an old maid in this damned job! And now he's going to fall in love and get married. Ugh, she will marry and give birth child! 

— Better loneliness than such «sympathy». Is there no way to challenge the decision? 

— Theoretically, yes. That's just from theoretically to actually — a hundred years of riding on a lame turtle. Have you ever tried to sue? I'm sick of it. And of course the fact that I do not admit my guilt and try to challenge the decision is quite natural. Every criminal believes that he was put in prison undeservedly. 

— Waiter, the bill! 

— I'm not going anywhere! 

The waiter was in no hurry to bring the bill. 

— You afraid that will take advantage of her situation? Yes, I'm not going to do anything like that, just take a bath in an ice shower to sober up faster, and put her to bed. 

— I don't want an ice shower! 

— You shouldn't have gotten drunk! Drunkenness will not solve the problem, drunkenness can only earn a hangover. 

***

They met under the following circumstances. 

The girl was holding a pen in one hand and a thick-backed notebook in the other. It looked ridiculous, but Al thought it was a good idea — the notebook could protect from a knife, and it wouldn't take much to stab you in the temple. And you can kill with a pen if you know where to hit. The girl did not scream and looked very threatening, although the guy could bet — that she was very scared. 

He decided to intervene. From the unexpected help, the hooligans were confused. What was also unusual — was the ruthlessness with which she aimed at the pain points. It is very difficult for an ordinary person to force himself to strike. 

— Let's get out of here! 

The girl struggled to catch her breath, looking at the unexpected Savior. Al didn't know what to do next. 

— Is everything all right? 

— Yes... it's all right..., — and immediately she clutched her clothes and began to cry. The guy only sighed — when it was all over, she realized what danger she was in. 

— Come on, now, — he said, trying to comfort her clumsily. The girl raised her eyes and looked into his face. 

— You'll see me out, — she said with sudden determination. 

— Are you a medic? 

— Yes, I'm doing my residency. And what? 

— It's just that you were aiming so hard at that bully's eyes. So only doctors and butchers fight. 

— I forgot to tell you... thank you, — and gave her a big hug. 

— Where are you from? 

— From Dar-ul-Islamia. 

— Strange, but what are you doing here? 

— Not all specialties were accredited, and I wanted to go to neurology... And I fell out with all my family. 

— Yes, it's sad... 

— Why sad? Another country, new experiences, new friends. 

— And then what? 

— That I will go back In sha Allah. 

— Don't you want to stay here? 

— Let's start with the fact that it's not safe here, and I've seen it clearly. Of course, we also do not advise walking at night, but still, an attack on the street — is nonsense, and not the order of things as here. 

— Probably you live in the land of milk and honey. 

— But even if it was, all the same life would be sweeter than not. Don't forget about the people. 

***

— Well, drunk, did you oversleep? 

— I won't drink any more. I didn't like it. Why have you come, Alyautdin? 

— To pass you the mission. You're a special agent, if you haven't forgotten about it yet. And everyone has to work. Our agent died in hospital N under mysterious circumstances. It would seem that the accident, injuries incompatible with life, the case is closed. But we started checking this hospital. A huge number of local doctors have either been dismissed under the article, or have been stripped of their license, or have been tried. 

— It's a swanky hospital, all right... 

— And you should get a job there. Taking into account that your license was revoked, they'll take you right away. 

— Wait, wait... I, it turns out, created a legend?! 

— Yes. 

— Are you all mad? I almost killed myself with grief!? Yes, I... 

— If you complete the task — your case will be reviewed and your license will be returned. And even restore at the previous place of work, — Alyautdin calmly interrupted the angry tirade. 

— I'm afraid I don't want to go back to my old job. 

— Your mission has begun. You should go to an interview with the chief medical officer and get a job. Hold this PDA, — and he slid the device over, — and you'll use the secure channel to write reports of what you've seen and heard that's interesting. But without acting independently — you should not conduct surveillance or try to get into secret documents. Just work and watch. 

— Doctors without a license? But how? The first check — and the hospital will simply close! 

— Do you know about the specifics of health insurance in the United States? 

— Basic level — absolutely for all citizens, including non-working, retired, homeless people. Middle level — for civil servants, I won't lie, I don't remember how much this insurance costs... 

— I think that's enough. You know the joke about basic insurance? 

— It costs a thousand dollars to get the nail out of your head. What about basic insurance? And at the basic, we can bend it so that it doesn't interfere. 

— So, clinics that work on the Basic level are actually poorhouses for the poor with all the consequences that follow. Doctors don't want to work there. Doctors there are not eager to work. So if you find fault with all the violations, then yes, the hospital should be closed. Here is only where then to treat all the poor and homeless? Therefore, they turn a blind eye to a lot of things. In addition, it seems that doctors are taken there for a reason, which a decent clinic will not even let go of the porch... 

— Because they will hold on to the place and keep quiet about a lot of things. 

— Right. 

***

Report number one. 

To be honest, I'm pretty exhausted. I didn't want to go to the emergency room for a reason, because there are a lot of people coming in at once — and I have to sort them out, just like in a war to determine which patient needs to be helped first. Moreover, everyone believes that his condition is the hardest of all and requires attention to himself. Unsurprisingly, every now and then there was a terrible rewind checkmate. Soon I will start swearing like a shoemaker, because I have someone to learn the dubious art of profanity from 

So I doubt that my reports will be of any use. What a surveillance — I don't have time to go to the toilet! But since I'm involved in this case, I'll do it as best I can. Then don't complain. 

— That's that! Even though someone is dying, and I need to eat! — said Alessandro, my handler. 

— Why? 

— Because if I don't eat, I'll die! And a dead doctor won't help a sick person. And you go and eat, or you'll fall off. 

We went into the little room. Alessandro locked the door. 

— They can break in without asking. 

We were chewing in silence when there was a pounding on the door. 

— Who's there? — his colleague snapped 

— The patient is ill here, and you are drinking tea here! 

— Well, I told you, — the doctor said to me, and then shouted, — is he going to die in five minutes?! 

— What? 

— I said, will he be dead in five minutes? 

— No. 

— That's all, so I'll be there in five minutes! 

— I'm going to complain! 

— You scared a hedgehog with your bare ass! In this dumpster, no normal doctor will go to work! And if you're so worried about your relative, why didn't you take him to Princeton? — Or does he only have basic insurance? If so, then welcome to free medicine! — and again to me, — — all relatives don’t like to pay for treatment, so immediately put their tongues in the ass. 

And we were back in production hell. I can't even remember how many patients I examined, how many documents I made out. 

Report of the second. 

In my opinion, there was only one event that could be considered strange. An old man with a stroke was brought to the emergency room. The patient was in a deep sopor, and his right side of the body was completely paralyzed. 

— Can I talk to you? — his son asked. 

I didn't like him at first — he had a sharp eye and behaved suspiciously calm, not like the usual relatives who start moaning and wringing their hands. 

At first, of course, they feel sorry for them, but when they throw a tantrum for the hundredth time, it begins to infuriate you terribly. So I want to ask, and if the house is on fire, you will also run around the house and yell «What a horror, everything is burning!!!»— or will you still try to put out the fire, or at least run for your life? No matter how hard it was, but first of all you need to think with your head, and then you can cry into somewhere in the corner. 

The son asked in a businesslike voice: 

— Can I talk to you about my father's treatment? 

— Why are you bothering me? I am an emergency room doctor, my business is to examine, issue and provide first aid, if necessary, and you can talk about treatment with the attending doctor! 

Unfortunately, working in the receiver, you learn to be rude very quickly. It's the only way you can still get some civility out of people. When you fawn over them or just talk to them calmly, for some reason they start to walk all over you. 

— Your father's condition is very serious. I'll take him to the ICU. 

Report of the third. 

...The next morning, at the five-minute news conference, they said that the old man had died. In principle, his death was expected, he was too heavy… 

Report of the fourth. 

...Brought an MVA — a young motorcyclist lost control. 

— TBI. Subarachnoid hemorrhage, — I said, and went back to plowing. The motorcyclist's mother and stepfather arrived. His mother was sobbing loudly, and his stepfather was unperturbed… 

Report of the fifth. 

...The motorcyclist died… 

***

Allegedly, the patient pulled out a gun and put it to his forehead. However, the feeling that Damira experienced was bewilderment — what the hell is going on here!? 

— Put the gun away, — she demanded in a steady voice. 

— I won't put it. 

— Why do you want to kill me? 

— You've been discovered, my dear. 

— I will remain silent. 

— Naturally. The dead don't talk. 

— Then I will be avenged by Dar-ul-Islamia. 

I have a habit of it Damira — to fiddle with something in his hands if he was nervous, and this situation more than contributed to the nervousness. And now she was clutching a metal-encased pen. To be honest, she didn't even think that the handle could be a weapon — she just wanted the killer to put the gun away. Damira grabbed the pen and slammed it into his chest, and for the life of her, she couldn't remember knocking the gun out and knocking it to the floor. He roared in pain and reached for the pen. 

— Don't touch her, you idiot! Although, why should I worry about your health? 

— Why? — but he took his hand away. 

The handle was protruding from her heart, and Damira was surprised at her own bloodthirstiness. 

— Because it's plugging a hole in your chest. If you pull it out, you'll bleed to death. 

— I see you've done it yourself, — the masked woman said. 

— You came to save me? 

— Did you think you were abandoned? Of course, you were backed up. 

— Who are you? 

The woman took off her mask. And Damira saw it... herself. Only with brown eyes, age-old wrinkles, and a lot of scars on her face. 

— Did you recognize me? 

— Are you my biological mother? 

— Yes. 

Damira honestly tried to understand how she felt when she found out the truth, but realized that she didn't feel anything for this woman. 

— Well, I didn't expect you to throw your arms around my neck for joy, — she said, but she still caught a hint of disappointment. 

— I had no idea you existed until today. 

— That's true enough. You can consider me a donor of the DNA, for that matter. 

— Who are you? 

— My name is Rachel Dreiser. It's funny that we share the same last name. Have you heard of killer Faceless? 

— I heard something. 

Rachel laughed: 

— Well, well! At that time the scandal boomed all over the world, and now — «I heard something»... Yes, people have a short memory 

— So you're Faceless? 

— Yes. Then they faked my death, erased my tracks, and since then I've been working for the Dar-ul-Islamiya. So you became a doctor? 

— Yes, it is. 

— When I was young, I wanted to go to medical school. 

— Why didn't you? 

— I'll tell you what — I've had no time. 

— Did you follow my fate? 

— To be honest, no. 

— Why? 

— So that I won't be tempted to make contact with you. If it was necessary to keep a secret about your origin, then I should not have taken the risk. 

— You didn't know who my parents were, or how I lived? 

— Yes. I didn't know what family you were sent to. And the fact that we have the same surname is very ironic. 

— Why did you do that? 

— It was demanded by the interests of the Dar-ul-Islamia. 

— That is, any crime can be justified by the interests of the Dar-ul-Islamia. 

— Nothing comes easy. By God, here I watch people who enjoy stability and prosperity and think that it happened by itself. And they don't even know what measures are being taken to preserve this stability. For example, a strict migration policy. We refer to other states as «the land of wild Islam». And we cannot afford too many migrants, otherwise we will have to forget about the calm. 

Damira realized that she had never thought about the life of visiting people before. All the acquaintances with whom she kept in touch were natives of this or that part of the Muslim state. But really, why are there so few settlers? 

— And what is the policy? 

— An immigrant who has come to live here is given temporary citizenship for a year and during this time he must prove loyalty to the policy of Dar-ul-Islamia or will be deported. 

— Loyalty? How's that? 

— To join in the life of society and agree with the local rules. Otherwise, if he does not try to get a job or get an education, and wants to live on one benefit — deportation. If he allows himself an offensive statement on social networks like the men here are weak — willed castrates who can't put women in their place, and women allow themselves too much-deportation. If he suddenly gets married, although I can't imagine who would like a refugee who can't get two words together and then suddenly gets divorced — deportation. If he tries to transfer his entire camp, and not his next of kin, he will be deported. And even if he passes the probation period and receives permanent citizenship, he will be required to visit the Embassy every year and report for his behavior. It would seem to be meaningless bureaucracy, but the point of it is to remind him of his true place, and that at any moment he can take off on a low-level flight. 

— Everything... Hard. 

— Do you remember the fiancé who almost hit you? 

— It's hard to forget. 

— Well, he was a migrant. By the way, he has already been deported to his homeland to enjoy the true Sharia, along with hunger and poverty. I'm sorry, we'll have to split up. I can't say any more yet, — Rachel went on her way. A moment later, she seemed to disappear into thin air. 

«She must have some ninja skills!» — Damira thought, and took off her robe. The girl decided to pack her things, realizing that there was nothing more for her to do in this hospital. 

«I'm looking for a new job again. Ah, well, the main thing is that the license is restored!»— Damira was secretly pleased with the completion of the task and mentally planned her job search. It was getting dark outside. A group of three burly men were walking toward her. The doctor didn't pay any attention to them, until one of them grabbed her by the shoulder. 

— Let me go now! 

«What is it?! I already won't get home without adventures?» — Damira was angry. 

— Shut up! — the unknown wrung his hands and dragged him to the car. Things were getting ugly. The girl kicked at the knee at full speed. The man hissed in pain and released the victim. Alas, quantity won over quality, famously kicking with his feet and finally spitting in the face. The rest of them pinned the girl down without much trouble. The victim kicked her in the ribs with a vengeance. 

«Hey, will someone rescue me?!» — the kidnappers threw her in the trunk. The girl lay motionless, taking in the events as if they were happening to someone else, not to her. A few hours later, the trunk was opened and the men tied her up and put a bag over her head. 

— How brave, though! Not hysterical, not crying! 

— Then be glad he doesn't annoy you with his screams and please! 

Damira was loaded into an aircar. The bag filled her nose, making it difficult for her to breathe, and she had to snort repeatedly. Fear seeped slowly into her mind. The girl broke out in a cold sweat and, despite the fact that there was a sufficient temperature in the aircar, she began to shiver. Time has already lost any meaning. When they arrived, the men dragged them to a shed where a pallet of straw lay on the floor and a bucket of bleach stood in the corner. 

— Don't try to run, or you'll wish you'd not been shot on sight! 

«I'd rather be shot!». 

***

Damira wished she had woken up this morning, but she had no choice — the door creaked. 

— Get up, you scoundrel! 

The girl quickly jumped to her feet — there was no need to make these people angry again. The men led her into a room full of bearded men in arafats. 

— Hello, Princess! — the leader asked. 

— The scoundrel, then the Princess, sort it out! — cut off Damira. 

— You're clearly not a coward. Well, there's a business matter for you. As you know, your father does pursue a not profitable policy for us. 

— What kind of politics? He's just a locksmith! 

— Your real father... 

— I don't know who my biological father is, so I can't help you! 

— You're wrong, my dear, you might very well be. I think your dad would be very upset if we killed you. 

The radicals let out a horse-like whinny. The blood drained from Damira’s face. 

— As proof that we're not joking... Hey, Asad, turn on the camera! 

— Don't! — Damira screamed. Not because she hoped the scream would have any effect, but because of her uncontrollable panic. 

— Shut up, you whore! — the radical slapped his face with his fist. Damira almost passed out from the blow, but she was shaken sharply by the shoulders, not allowing her to lose consciousness. The rapist tore off the headscarf, pulling it painfully by the hair, and tore open the blouse. She was almost prostrated, but the sound of buttons falling made her heart sink again. Filthy, rough hands roughly patted her body, making her feel nauseated. Damira tried to pull away, bracing herself for a series of further beatings, but she preferred the pain of his fists to the lascivious touch. 

— Look, it's still fluttering! She's a tough girl, though you can't tell. I'll have a lot of fun with her. 

The radical slammed her back against the wall, ready to fall on her. Her heart was pounding so hard that Damira thought it would stop in terror. «That's all»— despair reached its peak. Damira began to feel as if liquid fire was beginning to flow through her veins, burning everything in its path. She even looked down at her limbs, trying to figure out how they hadn't melted in the heat. But if the body was simply on fire, then the chest was a veritable volcano of fire. It hurts so much she want to howl. Damira takes a deep breath: 

— AAAAAA!!!!!! 

An unknown force, which was trying to damage the fragile shell of the body, burst out in a violent tsunami, demolishing everything in its path. People fell down dead. 

— Scoundrel... You wanted to have some fun? I will... I'll burn your brains out! 

The radical screamed with fear, either looking at the girl who had gone mad with rage, or realizing that she really would burn his brains out. Damira at that moment did not even wonder how she would do it, as a person does not think how he will get a cup from the top shelf. He just reaches out and takes it. 

— AIIIIII!!!!! 

A tall, medium-built man in a three-piece black suit appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the room. He had an unusual appearance — snow-white hair and purple eyes. 

— You play Gestapo? — he asked, looking at the radical's corpse. 

— Who are you? 

— I'm the one who was being blackmailed. 

— Why would anyone try to blackmail you with me? 

The man is silent. 

— Answer me! 

The man is silent. 

— Answer me now! You! You...? — the pupils Damira’s narrowed his eyes in horror — well, they wouldn't have blackmail you with ordinary girl. I'm your daughter, right? And you... you left me to be torn to pieces by these bastards and only came running when I was setting up a local Armageddon party!!! 

— Once again, I am convinced that character is determined by genetics. 

— I don't give a damn about genetics. You had plenty of opportunities to save me and not give yourself away if you were so afraid of it! He could have dropped a bomb on the base and pulled me out at the last moment! You just didn't want to! 

— What's next, Damira? Would I have given my enemies leverage over me? 

— That is... You don't care? 

«Danger!» — a loud vibrating scream, like an alarm, struck the nerves. «What kind of danger?» — Damira wondered to herself. The signal was too loud to be attributed to stress withdrawal. She chose to jump out of the way. Just in time, a psi-shot went through, inches from his head. Powerful enough that if Damira hadn't dodged, her brain would have leaked out of her ears. 

«May Allah punish you!» — she cursed under her breath, and lifted the table into the air. The piece of furniture flew at Rushan, but it only cut through the void, shattering into splinters when it hit the wall. «Cross the stream where it is shallowest!» — the girl was not surprised when she saw a man in the other corner of the room and forced the splinters to fly at supersonic speed, most of which were aimed at the face. Rushan pushed them aside and they stuck into the wall. 

— You wanted to leave me without my eyes. 

— You wanted to kill me. 

— I didn't expect you to be so cruel 

— Should I have politely asked you not to kill me? 

Neither the shame nor the other emotion was not reflected on the face of Rushana. He continued to consider his options. 

«Well, let's try it! By Allah, I will not spare you!» — and the man apparently decided that the battle would cost too much. 

— If you try to harm my family, you will get an implacable enemy. I hope you understand that I don't consider you and Rachel my family. What did she say — DNA donors? 

— I give you my word — and Damira knows she can trust him. 

«He didn't agree out of generosity. He doesn't need a desperate enemy ready to take revenge on him at any cost». 

1 Hitba (engagement) – a declaration about the desire to marry a particular woman her or her family. This can be done either by the man himself, or his family, or other trusted people. If the response of the girl or her family is positive, it is considered that the hitba took place 

2 Prayer rug — pile carpet 

3 Sujud — low bowing 

4 Jahiliyyah — a period of pre-Islamic ignorance and disbelief 

5 I swear to Allah 

6 The largest landfill in Southeast Asia where people live 

7 Israf — excessive spending of what can be directed to good deeds; one of the sins 


End file.
